Prophecy Problem (One-Shot)
by Squirrel of Shadow
Summary: In the Hall of Prophecies something that none of the key-players had foreseen takes place, and the plans are permanently derailed as Harry becomes aware of not just the truth previously hidden, but a truth that came into existence solely because of the lies he has lived through already. Made aware of the many betrayals, he does what needs to be done. One-Shot, Dark!Harry, Dum!Bash


Disclaimer: I am merely playing with other people's creations, I don't own the game/book/anime/TV-show I am borrowing from, nor am I making any money with this. I am writing for fun and practice, as fan-fiction to be shared with others if I feel like it.

**Chapter 1: The Prophecy Forgot To Mention this Day**

Standing in the Hall of Prophecies, Harry Potter felt a chill down his spine. Seeing the Orb with his name on it, he reached out, and grasped it tightly. A sharp inhale followed, as a rush of strange sensations overwhelmed him for a second, followed by a shuddering breath as his eyes closed, and he drew a long breath, his ears open. Hearing the quiet, approaching steps the others were missing.

"Excellent, Mr. Potter. Now hand over the prophecy orb or you and your-" Lucius Malfoy began to speak with a smarmy grin on his face when Harry snapped around and his wand made a slashing motion in the air. The surprised Malfoy barely had time to conjure a shield seeing the scythe-like wide slashing curse coming closer to him and the others.

The spell shattered his shield and went through it like hot knife through butter. In his mind, Lucius silently cursed Draco for assuring him that the Potter boy was just an average student, and not really powerful enough to be a threat. They all thought Harry Potter was a poster boy of light, only non-lethals like stunners or binders. This was most definitely not a stunner.

That was the last thought that went through Lucius mind as the spell cut him into, slashing him open at heart level and causing his arms to fall to the ground, the same curse slashing through four others ending their lives on the spot. Bellatrix LeStrange barely had the time to get out of the way and stared in shock as her husband's head fell off his shoulders, and the man's brother toppled over his arms hanging by a strip of skin as the cutter slashed him at about shoulder-level.

The other members of Harry's group stood shocked at the display of magic, and when the death-eater curses began to fly Harry found himself standing alone as he waved a hand creating a transparent _wall _between the death-eaters and his friends, silently walking to it and through it. The killing curse from Bellatrix's wand aimed right at his brow smashed into something unseen in the air, failing. Harry's own wand rose, and a crimson hex slammed into Bellatrix's stomach before the witch fell to the ground screaming, her own blood boiling in her veins killing her in a matter of few pain-filled seconds.

The other death-eaters went pale behind their masks, trying to retreat as Harry marched forth a cold look on his face, the wand slashing in the air over and over, the curses shattering their shields and piercing their flesh, killing them, tormenting them in painful last moments of agony, shattering their bodies and wills alike. Those who died quickly were the lucky ones.

As the last of the twelve death-eaters slumped on the ground with their eyes frozen in perpetual horror and insanity, Harry Potter felt the presence rushing into the lobby that he had marched into while chasing the last death eater, Nott Senior. Finding Voldemort staring at him angrily, Harry Potter narrowed his eyes.

"So, the boy-who-lived has gone dark has he? What would Dumbledore think of his chosen one now?" The dark lord cackled, while Harry Potter held up the prophecy orb which repeated the prophecy that had once been partly revealed to the dark lord, but then continued on further to begin a whole another one, the two of them standing silently. Harry Potter cold and without mercy, Voldemort shocked and trembling.

_"The Blinding Lord laughs on the Throne of Ignorance, as his sacrificial pawn advances upon the dark king, but the pawn holds a power the Blinding Lord has sought but may never have, and through promotion becomes a new piece, a powerful piece, but forever condemns the light for its delusions and failure, and dark for its pathetic failings. The Red King Rises, and the Dark shall perish at his wand, and the Blinding Lord shall be broken, his dream taken away, and his mask shattered to expose his hideous true self. The Red King Rises, and the Blood Shall Flow in his footsteps. Lord of Murder, Master of Death has come."_

Voldemort was backing away in panic, before Harry's voice rose in a cold, hollow laughter, starting to echo through the halls, while Voldemort's attempts to apparate away found him unable to leave the obviously insane young man's presence. Harry's eyes glowed with a killing-curse green glow, a smug smirk rising on his lips, and his wand lifting.

"_Avada Kedavra._" Spoken without passion, without mercy, without love nor hate, Harry cast the spell that was thought to be Voldemort's signature spell back at the dark lord, and try as he might the self-proclaimed lord found himself unable to move, unable to act. Trapped in place by that cold glare in Potter's eyes, seeing the green light rushing at him, the very same green as the boy's eyes.

As the spell struck Voldemort he felt his soul torn from his flesh, but worse still was that he felt the anchoring lines snapped, torn away. Those green eyes condemned him, those green eyes bound him, those very same killing curse green eyes that he had gazed down at when he came to murder the boy so long ago now looked at him, without emotion, uncaring, just squishing a bug in his way.

The tethers tore, the horcruxes became inert and the black ooze bled away silently, and Tom Marvolo Riddle found that he would forever be denied a peaceful rest in death for his actions sent him to the depths of a hell of his own making. Those souls he damned with the spell awaited him, and while he may be powerless, those souls were not, and Tom was about to learn why the saying _avenged sevenfold_ had not faded away even from muggle literature.

The Minister of Magic, along with Albus Dumbledore and several others appeared into the lobby around that time, to see Harry Potter standing victorious over the broken remains of Voldemort. His friends still trapped in the hall of prophecy before the brutally slain bodies of the death eaters, the bloody carnage showing the way to the depths, the last fool having dragged himself away as quick as he could crawl while missing half a foot while Harry was in no rush to catch up with the man, content to kill his prey when they realized there was no escape.

Harry knew that death was inevitable, because he was already her master. The cloak was his, the stone belonged to one he'd destroyed so many times all his possessions were already his, and in breaking free from the bindings that the headmaster had laid upon him with the last of the three pieces, he had already won its allegiance.

"Harry, my boy..." Dumbledore began, but Harry silenced him with a harsh gesture, before making a brief wave with his hand, causing Dumbledore's eyes to bulge as the elder wand flew into its true master's hand. The cloak shimmered in place on his shoulder, the ring holding the stone purged of its curses appearing on his wand hand. Standing there, the young man radiated power, a power that Dumbledore had sought for decades, that he would have given anything to claim for himself.

"Save your lies for your trial, _betrayer of the light. _You and your _vigilantes _are _despicable, _fully aware of the _atrocities_ and _doing nothing_, just like the first time. Your time is nearly up." Harry's hand rose, showing a phantom hourglass above his hand, in which very few grains were left in the upper half. "Even a _stolen_ _philosopher's stone _cannot prevent your _long overdue death_ anymore. Whether by ministry execution or by the _rot of your soul_, you will not live to see next Winter Solstice."

Harry Potter then looked upon the minister with the same coldness, addressing him in a way that made the panicking, budgy man nearly piss himself just hearing the boy's voice. "You, worm, will publish the truth for all to see, you will swear on your life to have everyone responsible for this horror trialed. Dumbledore and his minions, as well as Voldemort's followers. Every _suspected_ death eater will be dragged back and questioned under veritaserum, including _Severus Snape_. If you miss just one, I will personally drag you to the lowest pits of Hell reserved for traitors, for you have betrayed your homeland and your Queen. Ministry for Magic, not Ministry of Magic, you are still her Majesty's servants, and you have been committing an act of treason by associating with those who wished to try and rule both the wizarding world and the muggle world. Work hard, because I will know, and if you don't complete my command, there is no place that can protect you, no person able to even slow the inevitable. Swear your oath, or you shall die here and now."

Dumbledore, who had been unable to even form words while Harry was talking found himself once more in control of his own tongue, and spoke hurriedly. "Harry, listen to yourself my boy, you are going dark, you need to come back so I can show you the light-" He found himself suddenly choking, lifted in the air by an unseen force, with Harry's cold glare narrowed on him. The boy's hands were at his sides, his wand at rest, yet he was choking the old man with but a glare and levitating him in the air. That power, it shouldn't be possible, Dumbledore was panicking and for the first time in a century he was scared enough to piss himself.

"Perhaps you want to hear this. Choose carefully if you really want me to act, or if you will take your one, last chance." He held up the prophecy orb, and the true prophecy was spoken out loud, before the minister, before Dumbledore, before the Order of the Phoenix and before the dozens of aurors, reporters, ministry workers. The truth was coming out, and this was but a scratch on the surface.

"You have until winter solstice to clear the ministry, once you make your oath. I will have your oath now, or I will have your soul and your replacement will swear that oath to me." Harry watched Fudge coldly, as the stammering man hurriedly swore on his life and magic to see that justice was done.

As the magic sealed the vow, Harry nod and the elder wand changed into a scythe, his cloak's hood rose to cover the top of his head, and his face became a skeletal skull, his hands skeletal in their grasp around the wand turned scythe, the other hand holding an ethereal hourglass hanging by a chain from it, and the fist grasping the prophecy orb.

"Good. Don't forget. No place to hide, only truth can set you free now." With those words, Harry Potter faded away from sight, and the pandemonium began. Standing where he had just been, but unseen by all, Harry Potter felt the illusion of a grim reaper fading away from his features as he turned around to gaze upon the pale woman who bowed to him, a pale woman only he could see. Knowing he could not be heard by the others, Harry drew a short breath.

"Is it finally over then?" He asked the woman, who nodded her head, offering her hand. Harry took it, and Death took her master with her as she faded from the ministry to travel to Gringotts. As soon as they became visible in the lobby, goblin warriors charged only to fall with their weapons, dead before they came within fifty feet of him. Every one that dared draw weapon that close to him or raise their hand fell dead as he marched towards the head teller, a cold glare on his face, Death walking in his footsteps, the blood pouring from the goblin guards soaking the soles of his shoes.

"You will bring me every last bit of Potter family fortunes and relics here, you will pull every last coin back even if you have to rob your other clients to do so, you will pay me what was left to me and all that was gained from my family assets since my parents murder. You will do this, or I shall place a curse upon your kind, and your halls shall be quiet as a tomb for no life shall remain here. You have an hour, and then the harvest shall begin unless you have _everything_."

The goblins scrambled away like mad, rushing to get the boy what he wanted. They recognized the powers that be, and to see Death Incarnate following a boy with glowing eyes and an obvious presence of death, they knew they had no choice. Several goblins would be executed for daring to bring this misfortune upon them, and Dumbledore's vaults would be bled dry first because he was the prime reason the Potter coffers had been emptied. The sold off assets of the Potter family would be forcibly reclaimed, and the clients could take it up to Death herself if they had something to say about it.

Miraculously, they did have everything ready by the time the hour was done, and the boy-who-lived-to-become-master-of-death looked upon it approvingly. With a smirk, he waved a hand over the piled riches, which vanished from sight, beyond the reach of mere mortal men. Casting a last, cold glare at the goblins he turned towards the pale woman, and as she took his arm they faded away.

Before the end of the Winter, the Death Eater families were destitute, their status revoked and their names tarred in mud and blood, their rights revoked, and those who had served the dark lord, with or without a mark, executed despite Dumbledore's pleading to preserve the purebloods.

The trial for Dumbledore with veritaserum exposed a collection of lies and manipulations so horrifying that even devout followers were sickened to the core. The man's sanity had left him a century ago, and his ego was on the level of believing himself a living incarnation of greater good, the force that truly deserved to guide the world. The truth about Dumbledore's betrayal of his co-conspirator Grindewald came out, as did the manipulations to have the Prewett brothers killed to prevent them from revealing to Molly Weasley, their sister, what an insidious bastard Dumbledore truly were.

They exposed the manipulations of the Potter family fortune, the way that several muggle-born students had been given over as test-subjects to Severus Snape and their families either obliviated or informed a student had died a horrible accident because they were careless dunderheads that could mix a potion without blowing up their own cauldron. All that so Albus Dumbledore could break the riddle of the philosopher's stone and gain the elixir of life, something that he had found wasn't easy even once he had the stone, and the Flamels were gone. Whether they made a new stone and lived elsewhere under a new name or truly died after Albus robbed them of their stone with the use of Imperius, nobody in Britain knew for certain.

In the end, Severus Snape was executed and Albus Dumbledore was stripped of his magic and chained in Azkaban, though a practice of life-preserving potions was forced down his stomach monthly, in order for the man to stay alive and suffer as long as possible in punishment. Despite these precautions however, Harry Potter's words proved true. By the time the Winter Solstice came, Albus Dumbledore had passed away in horrible agony caused by rapidly advancing leprosy eating him from within.

Harry Potter was never seen again, but the words about the Lord of Murder, the Master of Death forced the society to review things that had lead to the situation that had come to occur, and several changes had to take place. Those who _fought against it_ seemed to suffer _bizarre, lethal accidents_ soon after, and the terror about the Lord of Murder spread.

Far away from it all, Harry Potter was resting on a beach quietly, sun-glasses on his head, and a drink in his hand. The pale woman resting besides him in a black bikini, her eyes closed as she spoke for the first time in a long time. "So, what now, my Master?"

At this, Harry let out a relaxed sigh. "Now, I'm going on a vacation."

**End Chapter**

A/N: This is a bit of a tribute to **Rorschach's Blot**'s amazing stories about **Mr. Black**, which I highly recommend everyone to read if they haven't already. The story begins with **Make a Wish** and has gained additional content from both Blot and other authors over time. This is just my short one-shot on the end with the thought of Harry learning more than he bargained for, and acting on it. Yes, this is over-powered as hell and totally out of character. So what? Like it, hate it, review or flame, I feel no scorn nor shame of it.


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